Pink Power Ranger
by MelissaArp94
Summary: One NHL superstar, one corporate badass, and one secret that has the ability to ruin everything. Can they keep the cat in the bag, or will the temptation be too much? Rated M for adult language and themes.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

I skated off the ice with what little momentum I had left, coach had been tough on us this practice. Truth be told he hadn't been easy on us all season. Considering it had been 20 years since the Stanley Cup had graced our hallowed halls, I don't think I could blame him. We had run farther, trained harder, skated longer, and watched more hockey film than I could shake my stick at. But it was only the beginning of my third year at the NHL level.

I had been pulled up to the Bruins from their AHL team in Providence a mere two years before. I had worked my ass off for this, ever since I was a little kid I was on the ice. Every winter my dad flooded the backyard so I could have my own personal ice rink. Not that it was ever as good as the freshly groomed ice in my hometown Ice Arena. I come from Trenton, New Jersey originally, I know I know, please don't hold it against me. I played peewee, little league, jr. high, high school, college and finally got recruited to play for the Providence Bruins straight off the ice from UMass Lowell. I was living the hockey life, and loving it. Even if my teammates thought I was a little weird.

Us hockey players are all a suspicious bunch, from the strange rituals to the out there schedules we kept in order for the stars to line up so to speak. Now I don't necessarily believe that in order for my game to be on point that the stars have to be in the right alignment but I wouldn't want to anger the hockey gods now would I? I never showered in the locker room and I changed in the bathrooms away from prying eyes. The guys believed that I probably had some girls name tattooed on my chest or even some gnarly battle scar, but if they knew the real reason I would be fucked.

I quickly changed into basketball shorts, a hoodie and running shoes. Running a quick hand through my hair, making it stand on end, I made my way out of the locker room. Throwing a gruff later to all the guys as I walked out the door and ambled to my truck, which may or may not have been the most ideal thing for Boston, but I loved it. A brand new black Ford Raptor that I had taken to Hennessey Performance to turn into a 4x4 600 Twin Turbo VelociRaptor. My baby goes from 0-60 in 4.2 seconds and runs the ¼ mile in 12.9 110 mph, I probably didn't need it in the city confines but hell did I love it. The rumble, the power, the handling, and the sheer bad-ass-ery that goes along with owning a performance engine, even though it was situated in a truck.

I tried not to lay down rubber as I pulled out of the parking lot at the Warrior Ice Arena. I cruised through town thinking about what else I had to accomplish today, which included finishing the shopping to furnish my new apartment, buy new clothes, grocery shopping and security for the new place. I had finally broken down and left my old place across town, because while it was affordable it was a wreck waiting to happen. Especially since I was beginning to get more playing time on the ice and increased recognition from the fans and press, Cassidy had recommended the change about a month ago. Having finally made it official by having a couple of the guys help me move into my new condo about a week ago. I had them all over for pizza and some beer last weekend to thank them, and they all ooooh'd and awwe'd at my new trophy case, filled to bursting with all my medals, trophies and memorabilia.

I eased into the underground parking lot (a godsend in Boston) pulled into my designated space and killed the engine. Leaning back into my seat I turned off the mental switch in my brain, hopped out and grabbed my hockey bag from the bed of my truck. Taking the elevator to my condo, I was thankful when no one joined me. Using the key to open my door I dropped my bag in the alcove and basically dragged myself to the steam shower. Forcing myself to stay upright I washed and rinsed, before collapsing back into the wall and letting the multiple shower heads pound my aching muscles.

Thanking whoever designed this place for a large water heater, I rendered the water cold before returning to earth and switching the water off. Stepping out onto my heated mats and pulling a towel from the warming rack I quickly rubbed it over my hair before running it down my body. Now I am not what you think of when you think NHL player. I am leaner than most especially in todays game, but powerful thighs and shoulders make me a hitting force that you don't want to trifle with. Slender hips and quick feet make me wicked with a stick and considering that's how I make my living that's a good thing. The recruiters and training staff were always worried about my lack of bulk in comparison to my teammates but once they saw how I matched and outmatched them on the ice there were no more worries. Sure the trainers still come up with new training regimes for me to try and gain muscle mass, but it never seems to work. Though I am capable of handling the new weight, I just don't pack on the muscles like my teammates, which was just fine by me. I hauled my exhausted ass to bed, and without missing a beat, knowing my alarm was set for one hour, passed the fuck out.

Alarm blaring incessantly I pulled myself from slumberland and dragged ass to my closet before I was fully aware of my surroundings. Bumping into what I had believed was my closet it took my brain a second to correct myself and remind my muscles that I was no longer in my old apartment. So I begrudgingly open my eyes and navigated the boxes to my new walk in closet. Throwing on jeans a t shirt and a zip up I pulled on socks and shoes in my alcove and left my condo for the second time that day. Intent on finishing the shopping for myself and my apartment, because one could only eat so much takeout on paper plates with plastic cutlery.

Walmart was my best friend ( I know what you're all thinking, but there's no place better for cheap clothes and one stop shopping). I zoomed through the store avoiding the electronics because I knew I was headed to Best Buy, and was out in under 30 minutes. I threw the perishables into a cooler and everything else went into the back seat. Next on the list was Best Buy, which I excused the sales person and wrote down PUC numbers for her to retrieve at the counter before having everything delivered, included the big screens. That done I zoomed back to O'Learys furniture store because it was the closest to my house and I had already perused their inventory prior to moving in. Taking another list again I did grab a sales person to help be a guide and inform me of any additional colors, models and customer ratings. I ended up with a new bed frame, matching bedroom set, closet organizers, living and dining room set, end tables, bookshelves and most importantly an entertainment center. Everything I would need to complete the condo's transformation into my place. After arranging delivery I booked it back my apartment to get ready for my meeting with the security place that Alonzo had told me was "the best in Boston".

After wiggling into one of my game day monkey suits, I drove through downtown to a swanky black glass and metal building which loomed ominously over 10 stories above the city street. I pulled into the sparse parking lot at the back of the building before taking a deep breath and walking through the customer entrance to RangeMan Inc. and announcing my appointment with the Owner, one Ricardo Carlos Manoso. Or if you went by the card "Ranger."


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Here is Chapter 2 you guys. Thanks for reading! Going to try to get you all one chapter a week!**

Chapter 2

The glossy black, what I assumed was marble, floor stretched between me and the elevator that I was instructed towards by the rather large unassuming man behind the front desk. I crossed the lobby, if you could call this power oozing, money smelling, glamourous, customer impressing first floor a lobby, to the elevator. Turning around, the man behind the desk had followed me to the elevator, took a key pad out of his black cargo pants pocket and punched what I assumed to be a floor number. As shortly after the elevator slid smoothly upwards and I was on my way to meet the big boss.

The elevator dinged open and I'm pretty sure my jaw almost dropped to the floor. Now I am not one who is normally intimidated by a group of large guys, hell I am a hockey player. While I only stand at 5'9" which is considerable shorter than some of the bruins we call our defensive line, that's including Chara who stands at 6'9" 250lbs and is the biggest player in the NHL. But I was now standing in a room filled with men considerable taller and more built than I was, which quickly became even more intimidating when I felt all their eyes turn to me. My natural reaction when I felt someone was judging me was no longer to shrink in on myself, but to puff up to my full height and stature. However, there was no way I could make myself look as big as these guys. I swaggered across the floor behind a rather large black man who had motioned me after him. I was led into a posh office suite, where an intense, latino looking man was buried in a folder laid across his dark wood desk.

Upon looking up he fixed me with a cold stare, which i steadfastly returned, before rising from his desk to shake my hand.

"Carlos Manoso" was followed by a quick curt nod, to which I replied in the same manner.

"Mitchell Andrus" as I released his hand, ignoring the clanging warning bells going off in the corner most part of my brain. Settling down into the chair opposite this powerhouse CEO was a little intimidating, but I needed his company between this new apartment and what was coming up on my contract resigning. Settling my game face on while Carlos rapid fired questions at me, what I wanted, what I needed, what kind of contract I wanted, all the basics that I had already covered in the questionnaire they have all their new customers conduct.

I was beginning to get fed up as it appeared he was determined to re ask all the questions I had already answered, "Is there a point to this other than pissing me off?" Mr. Manoso looked up from his laptop, where he had been taking notes, a slight widening of his eyes was all the evidence of his shock at my outburst.

"Is there a problem here Mr. Adrus?" he questioned with a quirk of his left eyebrow.

"Only if you intend to continue wasting my time with a repeat of your questionnaire. I've addressed all of your concerns through numerous phone calls and email correspondence. I've already agreed to the terms of contract and my being here should just be the official signing of the contract and you and your company's return signing of my confidentiality agreement as agreed upon. Now are we moving forward or am I done here?" During this tirade I had stood up and the Italian side of my temper had come out as my hands were making my frustrations known.

Manoso had leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled just listening to my rant. When I was done, he just leaned forward and pressed an intercom button on his phone. "Tank, please bring me the Andrus file." I remained standing while the appropriately named tank of a black man who had led me to the office brought in an extra thick manila file.

"Mr. Andrus, please sit." I warily lowered myself back into the seat. "I have taken the liberty of getting our lawyers together to sign confidentiality contracts and to go over the fine print together. We are ready for final signatures, and to set up a time to get our guys in for installation."

Knowing that my lawyer had already gone over the contracts put me at ease and I quickly signed the few lines I needed to before once again shaking Mr. Manoso's hand and being ushered to another smaller office and a very similar looking latino. Not able to hold myself back i blurted "Are you two related?" despite the plaque on his desk that clearly read Lester Santos.

The slightly taller, leaner made Santos laughed out loud and I was quickly put at ease for what I felt was a stupid question. "Yeah that damn lunk head I have to call boss is my older cousin. He's been bossing me around since we were toddlers. Dragged me into our fair share of trouble too." Lester had reclined into his chair, fingers laced behind his head, the picture of relaxed. As I relaxed and got into an easy banter with Lester he started to me about my hockey career, turns out he was quite the fan of the Bruins in general. Going on to say "I'll admit, I was not your biggest fan when they brought you up from Providence, I thought you were young and inexperienced. But sure enough, just like all your other fans I felt myself watching you skate and score. Now I find myself probably one of your biggest fans."

I laughed out loud and rolled my eyes, not able to contain my Jersey upbringing. "Dude there's no way you're one of my biggest fans. There is a reason I have a stalker clause in my contract and we had to fill out confidentiality contracts. I have more than one girl up my ass with stalker bullshit." Now it was Lester's turn to laugh, followed by a quick request that they receive a list of said stalkers and any contact they have had with me in the past year.

After we figured out the specifics of the installation, Friday before late practice, and the pre installation walk through, Lester was just going to follow me back to my place, we stuck our heads back into Ranger's office and grabbed the walk through team. I had Lester, who decided to ride with me, while three guys rode in a rangeman issued shiny black Explorer. The three guys, who I later found were Hector, a small but frightening Mexican who was their lead electronics and install guy, Cal a large white dude with a flaming skull mid forehead, who was in charge of hiding the cameras in discrete places, and Hal who could be Cal's twin, minus the tat who was in charge of containment. Coupled with Lester, who was their tactician, these four made up Rangeman's installation walk through team.

Walking them all up the stairs I suddenly became aware of the state of my apartment. Clothes, ace wrap, underwear, sweaty hockey gear, UNDERWEAR! Son of a bitch, I would have to quick sweep the apartment make sure all the underwear at least was off the floor. Opening the door and then handing Hector my keys I opened the door immediately stooping to grab the pair of underwear hanging out of my duffel. Followed by a pair closer to the hallway to my bedroom. Quickly whipping my head to the fucking desk of all places, where there were a pair of fucking panties thrown haphazardly across the back of my computer chair….

Lester immediately spotted them, walking my way twirling the red lacies around his pointer finger, snatching them off his finger and adding them to the pile of athletic shorts in my hand. His lecherous grin and waggling eyebrows clued me in on exactly what I was thinking. "Dude, whose are those? Are you sleeping with the puck bunnies here?"

Whipping my head vehemently back and forth in denial, but thinking better of it I grinned right back and couldn't help myself from firing right back "Nope sleeping with one of the Bruins girls man, she was so stacked. You shoulda seen the rack on her." The Bruins girls being the girls who swept the ice during timeouts and other delay of games.

Hal chimed in at this point "which one was she Mitchell?"

"It's just Mitch guys and honestly I couldn't tell you, Melissa, Melanie, Mandy maybe? But you guys go ahead and do what you need to do I'm just gonna clean this up real quick. Keep in mind all the rest of my furniture and appliances will be moving in tomorrow." With that I excused myself to clean up what clothing and gross things I had laying around the apartment. I was a notorious slob, and even though I had only been in this condo for a week I had pretty much trashed it. Between my love of take out food, and my hatred of dishes the kitchen and the breakfast bar were covered in pots, pans, dishes, take out containers and plastic silverware.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys! Here's an extra chapter for this week, it wouldn't leave me alone.**

 **Thanks for your support!**

Chapter 3

The next morning found me again at the ring on my skates before everyone hit the ice. I enjoyed my quiet time at the rink, plenty of time to reflect and focus. This particular day was reflecting, on my childhood and what had gotten me this far. I had been born Stephanie Michelle Plum, to Frank and Helen Plum of 364 Brighton Circle in the Chambersburg area of Trenton, New Jersey on April 1st 1992 at the Capital Health Medical Center. My father had wanted a boy so bad, that when the nurses brought me out swaddled in pink instead of blue he had turned to my Uncle Martin and dejectedly remarked "Well, there goes my chance for a defensive lineman for the Rangers. Martin always laughs when he tells that story to me now, unknowingly I was closer to Dad's dream of having a defensive lineman that Martin would ever know. My parents know of course, and even though they tell stories about me being a Lingerie designer that travels the world and is gone for long periods of time (which I believe my mother would love, if it were true) my father owns season tickets and my mother even owns a Bruins jersey.

My older sister, Valerie, hates everything about me, including that I was 'daddies favorite'. Knowing that my father wanted a boy, I had done everything I could to become the boy he always wanted. We went to every sporting event together, worked on his American made car, went deep sea fishing and everything else my father could think of. So it was only natural when I picked up the hockey stick and fell in love. My mother secretly hoped I would take up figure skating when I took naturally to the ice. However she quickly found that my time with my father had instilled a deep love of hockey and let the possibility of sequins and toe picks go.

My mother may have never seen eye to eye about anything, other than her pineapple upside down cake was to die for! But one thing was for sure, she was supportive. Way more so than some of the other Burg moms, like Joe Morelli's witch of a mother. Joe was our goalie, and it turns out we had both grown up in Trenton and my mother had always warned me and Valerie away from those horrible Morelli boys. See, Joe's father was an alcoholic, and a mean one at that, all the Morelli men were, they beat their wives and cheated on them. Joe's mother was really no better, never standing up for herself and always taking her anger at the situation out on her boys. It didn't matter to her that Joe was now one of the best damn goalies the East coast had ever seen, she wanted him to be a cop. Always going on about how he could have been a hero. Joe's father put himself in an early grave with liver failure, or at least that's how Joe always puts it. With his father out of the picture Joe became a hockey star like me, however we played on different club teams and went to separate colleges so Joe has no idea of my true identity.

I changed my name to Mitchell Andrus, a simple change if you knew me and my family history. My middle name was Michelle and my grandmother's maiden name was Andrus (she's where the Hungarian half of my genetics come from), thus Mitchell Andrus was born. When I played in college, the girls team was just plain bad, I was on scholarship but ended up walking off the team, changing my name, cutting my hair and walking onto the boys team. At first I was too small, so I redshirted my way through Freshman year and bulked up, eating too much and lifting even more. So newly bulked out I skated onto the rink ready to make them accept me, but with my quick feet and even faster stick work I was quickly thrust into the Varsity Hockey limelight. As I continued to get stronger both on the ice and off I grabbed the attention of AHL scouts. So I finished up my Senior year with a signed letter of intent to the Providence Bruins, with the intent to move to the Boston Bruins. It took me two years but I finally got the call that pulled me from the "farm" and brought me up to the big leagues. The NHL had finally noticed my talent and I was reaping the rewards. 20 years of long hard work full of blood sweat and tears to get to this quiet, half dark, cold hunk of ice, and I wouldn't change a thing.

As my teammates slowly made their way onto the ice one by one I greeted everyone, until Chara, our captain, and Bruce Cassidy, our coach skated out onto the ice. After everyone was warmed up we started by taking shots at the goalies one on one, then two on one and finally a group of three to four headed at them. This was followed by a few play tweaks and run throughs and finally a few scrimmages before we hit the gym. I always started on the treadmill, alternating jogging and running while most of the guys moved around the weight machines and free weights. I watched as Morelli consulted with the trainers about his ankle injury, and Chara get pulled aside and his resistance training for a sprained wrist started. I knew I would be shortly after, considering I was skating around with a bruised hamstring for the last week, due to that asshole Brodie giving me the mother of all checks in the back of the leg. I almost got up and started going after him, but Cassidy's glare kept me from retaliation.

The trainers here were some of the top in the country, hand picked from a roster of athletic physical therapists and medical teams. They kept us in top shape and as a result we had the fewest injuries of the entire NHL in the last two years, which was quite a feat considering the torture we put our bodies through. Even in the off season they kept us in top physical condition. Sure enough Eddie came over and made me hop up on the closest massage table in order to work on my hamstring. The pain was bearable but when someone mashed their fingers right into the bruise to help relieve the stiffness it hurt like a bitch and I could barely contain the wimpy squeals. He once again advised me on some stretches I needed to be doing about 5 times a day and the resitance training I should be doing at least twice. I thanked Gazzara and hopped off the table, finally moving to the free weights. I pushed out reps, letting the hard rock we normally work out to wash over me and put me in my zone.

Lester Santos POV

God why in the hell couldn't I get him out of my brain, was I seriously this infatuated or was this just a typical Professional Athlete worship. The kid was a genius out on the ice, I couldn't even really call him a kid, I was only 3 years his senior, which still only made me 28. When providence recruited him directly from college I wasn't surprised, but the quick move from AHL to NHL was a bit of a surprise, until the first game against the Coyotes in which he had two goals and three assists proving his dexterity with a stick and his ability to spot the good shots, even when they weren't his.

It was pretty common knowledge that I was Bi-Sexual and I had more than my fair share of male encounters. But in no way did I consider myself gay, unlike the images my mind were concocting on rerun in my head were leading me to believe. The type of men I took home were definitely not Mitchell Andrus. Not that he was horrible to look at, in fact the opposite was true, even if he was a bit feminine in the face and build. Unlike your typical hockey player, the mass was a bit lacking, Andrus was leaner and more angular made. He didn't ooze raw power like the men I normally took home, because on the rare occasion that I did find a male partner I was interested in, they were normally larger and more dominant than I was. Andrus did not fit this bill, but I could not keep him from my mind. I was distanced and distracted at work, quiet and unable to focus, which was definitely not my usual work persona.

Lunch time found me in my apartment taking a second shower for the day. Remembering what had just transpired in my bedroom I began to harden again.

Walking through my door, I was already shedding clothing. My dick had been hard for the past hour, I couldn't help it, couldn't stop it, nor did I really want to. My head rubbed on the seam of my black Rangeman issued cargo's the entire trip from the 5th floor. The slight discomfort wasn't enough to deter me or the images that flashed through my mind on a reel. Andrus laid across my bed naked, bent over in my shower, on his knees under my desk. I couldn't stop the images from assaulting my brain, adding to the growing problem in my pants. I shouldn't have gone commando today, although the stain I was sure to be leaving on the inside of my pants would have been better on a pair of boxer briefs.

Pants shed, and shirt pulled over my head I immediately grabbed my thick shaft, a moan escaping my mouth. I walked to my office within my apartment, immediately my eyes fell to the signed poster I had of Andrus and my hand moved faster, as if it was under it's own power. Pre cum began to bead on the head of my cock as I wiped my hands over it to help slicken my palm. I let the images wash over me, pulling a scene together in mind and giving myself over to the sensations my hand was creating. Oh how I wished it was his mouth on my cock. It didn't take the reel in my mind long before I was panting and weak kneed, my cum splattered on the wall beneath the poster. One arm leaned against the wall helping support my body weight, as my muscular thighs quivered with the force of my cum.

Energy and balls drained I dragged my ass to the shower, after wiping the wall clean. What had I just done? I was lusting over a client, the number one no no in the security business, hell in any business. But fuck it if I couldn't force him from my mind. This was going to be torture, especially since I had tickets to this week's home game.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Sorry it got so delayed guys!**

Chapter 4

Two days had passed with typical humdrum fashion, practice, gym, put my apartment together and sleep. Friday arrived, I had left my key with Lester when he was here for the walk through and they would be here while I was away at the arena for our pregame practice since our first game of the pre-season was tomorrow. Tomorrow morning we would meet for our first team breakfast and go over some game footage and then do some no contact plays and then have some fun on the ice. Our eight-game exhibition slate would begin Saturday, Sept. 26, with a matchup against the Columbus Blue Jackets at TD Garden. The schedule includes two games apiece against the Blue Jackets, Detroit Red Wings and Philadelphia Flyers, as well as back to back games against the Montreal Canadiens.

I found myself caught up more than once in thoughts of Lester. God the man was gorgeous, tan caramel hued skin, deep green eyes and luscious lips that just begged to be sucked and nipped in the throes of passion. _God Damnit Steph get your fucking shit together, you cannot have thoughts like that about a guy. You agreed going into this that guys were off limit as a 'gay' relationship of a hockey great would just cause too much trouble, and trouble is the last thing we need. We already have issues with stalkers._

My head back in the game I quickly slapped a Thrive patch on my arm and grabbed my morning smoothie. Swiping up my gym bag on the way out the front door, I rushed to the elevator. Sipping my smoothie in silence I couldn't help but let my mind wander back to Lester. Inevitably falling into the same question I had found myself asking the last few days, what was I going to do about him. I couldn't sleep with him and hope it was a one time thing I needed to get out of my system, I really couldn't afford the backlash that allowing someone, who had the potential to ruin my life, into my secrets.

Not finding an answer by the time I hit the parking garage, I pushed him from my mind, only allowing myself to focus on the upcoming practice. We would be trying out a new lineup today that most likely wouldn't hit the ice until finals. We were all on the smaller end but quick on our skates and with our sticks. Chara kept calling us the secret weapon, Cassidy just called us his shit heads because along with our quick moves came a smart mouth and a cocky attitude, one that had gotten us into trouble on more than one occasion, both on the ice and off.

My arrival at the rink almost startled me, but it was not the first time I had driven there on autopilot. Parking my truck I grabbed my bag out of the back and made my way inside, nodding to one of the guards I saw. Tossing my bag into my locker I tracked down Gazzara, one of the trainers and had him work on some of the residual tightness I had in my thigh. Brodie may be on our team but he had it out for me ever since I took his spot on the front line. He never missed an opportunity to knock me down a notch or take a cheap shot at me. Which seemed to be more often this year.

I flipped through my social media and updated Twitter, Instagram and Facebook while Gazzara worked his magic. Posting pictures of what I called the quiet before the chaos, an empty locker room of perfectly mirrored lockers, fill to the brim with every guys hockey equipment. I also posted a quick photo of my lower back and legs, one sporting a left over bruise from Brodie, which quickly gained over a thousand likes from my adoring lady fans…. God if only they knew.

Thanking Eddie, I hopped off the table and quickly ran through my pre ice routine. We hockey players were a superstitious bunch, me maybe more so than most. Finishing my smoothie, wrapping my chest up tight, donning a base layer shirt, athletic compression shorts (complete with cup to make it look authentic), base layer leggings, and light practice hockey shorts. I sat down to begin the process of putting on my skates. Just as I finished the guys began to trickle in, some heading off to get a warm up rub like I had, while others started right into pre game routine.

My OCD had me checking a rechecking straps placement and feel of all my equipment, before tapping out a quick rhythm on the bench with my knuckles. Donning my lucky arm band and throwing on a padded t shirt and then one of my baggier sweatshirts. Since this would be a mostly non contact practice I had lightened up my gear by about 20lbs. I rapped my knuckles on my locker one more time before grabbing my practice stick and heading out to the ice.

Practice was short and to the point, afterwards most of the guys stuck around to fool around on the ice and shoot some goals. One of our backup goalies had donned full gear and we were slapping the puck around like we were kids again. Sometimes it was great to unwind and bond with the guys like this. We decided to keep the vibe going at hit lunch together at The Flatbread Company here at the rink. We ordered pizza and beer and had them reserve the bowling alley. We were always a rambunctious group when we all got together, and today was no exception.

Nearly 4 hours later I excused myself and headed for my apartment, considering it was closing in on 5pm I did not expect Rangeman to still be at my apartment. I was in for the shock of my life however when I got to my floor, only to find my door ajar.

I raced down the hallway to find 2 men in black as well as Lester, guns drawn, intensely questioning a 30 something woman. We she laid eyes upon me she lunged in my direction only to be stopped by the two Rangemen, kicked and nearly hysterical she kept telling me that I had to make them release her, and screaming that she was my fiance and they had no right to treat her that way.

Lester wouldn't look at me, for whatever reason, he steadfastly refused to make eye contact of any sort. However when they finally made the woman state her name, "Tracy Johnston", his head shot up and eyes searched mine for confirmation. A quick nod told him all he needed to know, my most obsessive stalker had somehow found me.

After some intense questioning that I requested to remain present for, she finally admitted that she had been stalking me when I made my final moving day. Following the moving truck, and making note of the address she came back today and somehow managed to convince the manager Dillon that she was my fiance and had locked her set of keys in the apartment, not knowing any better because of my recent move, Dillon let her into the apartment about 15 minutes ago. However thanks to the new Rangeman system, she triggered a silent alarm that had Rangeman on the way to the apartment. Upon arrival, Lester found her taking pictures in my bed and with my trophy case. Even going as far as to posing with a fake engagement ring in front of it. Lester had confiscated the phone, sending the pictures to the Rangeman database before deleting them from her phone.

Frustrated that my newfound privacy bubble had been burst so soon, I proceeded to call the cops and begin the process of pressing charges and filing a notice for failure of compliance to a restraining order. Having Rangeman there sped up the process and their eyewitness accountss well as the photos Lester collected were added into the ever growing police file. Ms. Johnston was escorted to an awaiting police, a car in hand cuffs and the men in black left. Lester had stayed to make sure I was ok and if I needed anything else before he returned to the office.

"Do you do this for all your customers or am I getting the VIP treatment?" His quick smile told me nothing, but his reply left me with more questions than answers.

"Standard Protocol states that it's part of my job but as one of our high end, public customers it's also something I had added to the services." He was treating me with little kid gloves today, tiptoeing around anything that could remotely be seen as humorous. Instead his face was a perfect mask of emotion that were meant to make me feel comforted but instead left me feeling as though he was hiding something from me.

Cracking open a cold Sierra Mist, and offering him one as well, I moved to the new sofa. Sinking into it's overstuffed depths for the first time with a sigh. Gesturing to any of the open seats I invited Lester to sit down, I was about to rehash my stalker issues.

Two hours later, Lester nodded curtly to me, having still not opened up anymore than he had. Frustrations were clear on my face, thankfully I was able to pass them off at having my new home invaded.

My phone beeped, letting me know a new message had come in. Picking it up off the ottoman and checking the message, finding it to be my father wondering if we were still on for dinner after the game tomorrow before he crashed at my place. Shooting back a quick reply, I sent an alarm on my phone before changing into a baggy t shirt and thong and crawling into bed.

The next morning I leaned heavily against my shower wall, massager pressed firmly between my legs, moaning out Lester's name. Legs finally giving way I sat down on the shower bench with a thud, head dropped into my hands wondering at why I couldn't get him out of my head one way or another. The only place I seemed to truly be able to push him into the far recesses of my mind was when I was on the ice. Maybe it was time to take a chance on letting someone in. In that moment I made a decision to ask him out on a date, as a guy of course and to see how things might go.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Sitting on the hardened wooden bench, legs out encased in full game gear, head reclined, eyes closed, is where I found myself at 5:40 PM on Saturday night. Honing in on my zone before the first of our eight game exhibition slate. My workout playlist playing in my earbuds I bobbed my foot to the music, looking up and nodding my head to every teammate who entered. You could smell the serious in here. For every man that entered the locker room you could feel the tension ratchet up another notch.

Trying to find my center was proving harder today that others. But considering it was the first game of the pre season it wasn't uncommon for me to have jitters. Not able to control the tempo of my toe tapping anymore I moved to the floor to stretch. One of the things my team members always wondered at was my flexibility, in fact it kind of creeped them out. I told them all it was my gymnastics days sticking with me, which in some ways was true. However the hockey pads I was currently wearing were tad bit restrictive so I had to settle for a half stretch, but it would do.

Cassidy and the other coaches walked into the locker room, followed by the medical staff, we all snapped to attention sitting in front of our designated lockers.

"Well guys, here it is. I'm gonna keep this short because I know you're all anxious to hit the ice for real. But keep your shit together, and we're gonna work on some of the new line ups and throw some new guys in there. This is an exhibition that I expect you guys to fucking own the ice. Don't you dare get slack. Let's show them what we're made of."

We all trooped out onto the ice, skating out and rounding a few laps to limber up before running some motion drills, and slapping the puck around. Since we were last to take the ice once we finished our allotted ice time we skated directly to the bench to announce starters. The tension is so ramped up in the stadium you can feel it vibrating in your bones. The tremors that no matter how many times you play at this level with fans who love you and rivals who hate your guts, you never overcome. You will never become used to the feeling created on this hallowed ground.

We all stand respectfully while the Columbus Blue Jackets starting line was announced. My skates sliding forward and backwards with penty up energy, as the announcer gets ready to start our line up. The hometown crowd stomping their feet, clapping their hands, the noise level becoming a daunting thing. Waiting, hardly hearing the other names being called, but slowly watching the line in front of me dwindling, finally getting the opportunity to put some power behind my skates, exploding off the line to shoot around the ice, my hand skirting the wall, before coming to an ice shaving sudden stop next to Buche. "You shithead" being the only response I would get out of the team's senior player, the Bruins legendary warhorse. He didn't believe in the showboating, or the running of your mouth. His only belief was giving the ice everything you had every single minute of every single game we would ever play. He was a driving force and felt like getting hit with a mack truck when he pounded you into the boards.

Skating as a group back to our bench we line up, the rest of our team behind us standing in the bench. Since we were playing an Ohio team we only needed to listen to one national anthem. You could hear the skates scraping as we struggled to remain composed and calm through the anthem. I always took these moments to try to dig deep, pull up some deep recessed beast that seemed to take over during my time on the ice. I could feel it crawling it's way up my throat, releasing itself with a roar as we took our places on the ice.

Teeth gnashing, muscles quivering, blood pumping, trying to hold the beast back for just 10 more seconds. 3….2…...1….. Puck drop. The silent second that followed passed in slow motion as I slammed my upper body into Werenski while my hands worked the stick into an optimum position to be able to pass it back to Bergeron between my legs, before using my elbow to get rid of Werenski and pushed off his skate to shoot down the outside line.

Reaching my stick out to gain control of the puck as it was passed diagonally to me, quickening my feet I pushed out the speed that I was famous for, slingshotting around the back of the net to take a spinning shot attempt at the net.

 **LPOV**

Holy shit! I couldn't believe that. Mitch looked like he headbutted Werenski before sending the puck between his legs to Bergeron, who controlled it quickly down the ice. Letting it fly back to Mitch who picked up a crazy amount of speed, slingshotting around the net like NASCAR to get off an amazing shot that required some serious stick to puck control. The entire crowd shot to their feet, em included screaming before the buzzer went off.

First game of the year, first goal, first official man crush! I couldn't focus on any other guy on the ice as long as he was out there. I wasn't wearing my Andrus jersey, just some official team wear, and I was trying to match my enthusiasm with Bobby Brown, my best friend who had come out to the game with me. I couldn't have anyone getting the wrong ideas about anything. Especially since he was a client, specifically my client. If Ranger ever found out about this I would be so dead on the mats, they would need a scraper to peel me off.

Luckily the ARMY and my time at Rangeman had given me a Master Class in controlling facial expressions. So clamping down on my emotions, which were running high, I took my seat with everyone else.

But by the end of the 2nd period I was livid. The Blue Jackets were losing bad and starting to play rough to try to make up for their bad offense and defense. Even Kellerman their goalie, who was ranked in the top 5 NHL goalies wasn't enough to control the amount of points being scored. Werenski was taking every cheap shot he could get away with, even though thanks to Mitch's quick footwork and reaction times most of them were not connecting. However he landed a bad stick hit to the existing, healing back thigh contusion, and I could tell Andrus was feeling it. The slightly slower skating led to an easier target for Werenski.

It wasn't long until Werenski was able to catch Andrus with the puck, sending him flying into the boards. A sickening thunk that heard the entire breath sucked out of the arena. Fighting the urge to leap to my feet to get a better look at what was happening, I grabbed the armrests with a single minded determination of keeping my ass in my seat. However I could tell from the sideways look Bobby was giving me that I may have given away something. And considering he knew me better than anyone else, it wouldn't surprise me if he knew something was up. Out of the corner of my eye I had been unconsciously watching an older male about to lose his mind over the Andrus hits. In my mind I was wishing I had the ability to show my concern and fury over Werenski's chicken shit moves.

By the time the medics had made it out onto the ice where Andrus had been slumped against the boards like a carelessly thrown rag doll, he had gotten himself to his skates, and was shaking it off. IT was easy to tell that the hit had shaken Adrus and the medics ushered him off the ice and quickly back to their locker room to be checked out by a doctor. Suspecting at least a concussion, in addition to what was not a love tap to the thigh, I highly doubted that Mitch would be returning to tonight's game. Knowing how little he was on the injury list, I also didn't see him sitting out much more of the next five games.

I distracted sat through the remainder of the game, the Bruins continuing to dominate and the Blue Jackets becoming more desperate as the clock ran out, but all of their last ditch moves to save the game came up short.

On our slow shuffle out of the stadium my eyes were drawn to the same older gentleman from earlier, hugging and talking to a dressed down Mitch. I suppressed the urge to stop and talk, deducing that it must be his father. So I caught his eye, raised a hand and forced myself to keep walking.

 **MPOV**

There was no mistaking the telltale throbbing in my skull, and the feeling of coming back from being submerged. Concussion. That little fucking prick Werenski had been hound dogging me all night and threw a childish fit when his team was losing, catching me with a stick right in my pre existing contusion. But the damn asshole couldn't stop there, hell no, once he had slowed me down enough to be able to catch me, he caught me off guard and slammed me into the boards.

I was ushered back to the dressing room, given the official concussion call, and told to get my postgame rubdown and to go ahead and change back to my civvies. I watched the rest of the game from behind the bench, cheering my teammates on to a spectacular win against a team that had resulted to cheapshots and desperate moves.

Meeting my father in what he become our designated spot after the game, he pulled me into a bone crushing hug, asking me a million questions and never letting me go. I did catch Lester's eye and his small wave over my father's shoulder and gave him a nod. Finally getting my father to let me go I managed to get him to our favorite little diner down the road where we pigged out on greasy burgers and fries, milkshakes and dutch apple pie ala mode. I had burned more than enough calories to cover it within the last 3 hours.

By the time I had my father on his train back to Trenton, I was approaching the verge of my ability to stay conscious. I left all my shit locked in my truck in the garage and took the elevator to my room, barely getting my clothes off before collapsing into bed. My last thought before darkness consumed me was how great Les looked in Bruins colors and those tight jeans.

AN: Love you guys! Haven't forgotten about you all, so here's a quick chapter!


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

 _My days were consumed with Lester, I had finally broken down his defenses and we had been dating for about 3 weeks. We were constantly on dates, taking each other out or bringing one another food. It was perfect because his diet was just as rigorous as mine was if not more so. His workout schedule however didn't mirror mine so we had both been working out twice as much. I was more shredded now that I had ever been. All the guys on the team had noticed and wanted to know what I had been doing._

 _But despite all the fabulous times we were having I was sexually frustrated. We had done little more than make-out against his hallway wall. My shower massager wasn't cutting it anymore, so I was on my way to Lester's apartment to tell him my secret and hopefully get some much needed release._

 _Knocking on his door, the smell of our favorite Thai restaurant permeating the hallway air, I rocked from foot to foot nervous energy giving me more than enough adrenaline to take out a bear. Lester answered the door in a low slung pair of short that revealed that perfectly defined V that led to the promise lands. I had to subtly check for drool because I knew I was salivating at the thought of running my tongue over all those prominent muscles. Shaking my head to hopefully dislodge those thoughts for the moment. I held up the thai like a peace offering, with a sheepish look on my face. I knew he had a late shift last night and I was pushing the line of how early I had him awake. He pulled the thai from my hands and wrapped his free arm around my neck pulling me into the apartment._

 _I willingly followed him after he had closed the door behind me, both for the tantalizing bounce of his perfect ass and the delicious thai food in his hands. He pulled my beef pad thai out, putting it in a real bowl with an actual spoon not the plastic crap they send it in. He then drew out his favorite curry dish, pouring it all over his rice. I grabbed two water bottles out of the fridge and grabbed my bowl before walking in to find him already devouring the food. I sat next to him on the couch, placing the water bottle in front of him._

 _It wasn't until I was almost finished with my bowl that my stomach began to tie in knots, realizing what I came here for. Placing my now noodle-less bowl on the coffee table I turned towards him letting him finish his curry. While he continued to eat I took the time to admire him from the profile. His dark brown hair stood up in what I now knew to be carefully arranged spike that took just as much maintenance as mine did. In fact we used the same hair products. Those piercing green eyes were completely focused on the plate before him, strong angular jaw working overtime. Powerful neck and shoulders would have made him the perfect defensive lineman, where I was more agile and lean. His pecs have way to perfectly defined 8 pack abs, leading down to what I hope was a …. Shit shit shit I gotta stop thinking like that._

 _Les had noticed me staring and was now looking at me with mirth dancing in those green eyes. I guess the lust had been blatantly plastered across my face, as it seemed to be with all my emotions because he could read me to a T. So I decided to just lay it all out there for him to do with as he see fit._

 _In the end he was slack jawed, but I could see the anger building behind his now dark green eyes. His jaw muscle was twitching and he was well on his way to building a full head of steam._

" _Get out." his voice, devoid of any emotion left no room for argument. I couldn't do anything but stare, I couldn't move, speak, nothing._

" _I said get the fuck out, you lying cunt…" That did it, I began scrambling backwards, falling off the back of the couch._

I awoke in a cold sweat, the bed drenched beneath me, heart racing, dread pitted in my stomach. A quick look at my clock revealed that while it was only 5am, there was no way I would get back to sleep after that dream.

I quickly dressed, throwing on a pair of basketball shorts and a sweatshirt. Grabbing my running shoes I plopped down on the bench in my foyer and snatched my extra apartment key, sliding it behind the ipod strapped to the top of my bicep. Pounding feet carried me quickly down the three flights of stairs and out onto the quiet city streets. My mind churning with guilt, because dream Les was right, so far I had been lying to him. But I couldn't just reveal myself to a near stranger. Even if he had signed a confidentiality agreement.

Oh Stephanie what are you doing?


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

My lack of sleep and all consuming guilt had run me ragged and i was looking like a haggard mess by the time I dragged my ass onto the team bus we were taking to our next game. We were on the road for the next 2 games in 4 days. I tossed my bus bag on a seat and collapsed next to it, in a window seat. I was plugged into my iPod trying to zone out when Buche decked my arm and sat in the seat next to me. Before he could rip the ear bud out of my ear I faced him and pulled them out myself. Wrapping the cords around the iPod, I waited for Buche to say whatever what was on his mind.

"What's eating you kid. I can tell more than a concussion is wrong with you. Hell you don't look like you've slept a wink." The old man was right, I hadn't slept a wink and I knew I looked it.

"Nah just rocking my zombie look today. I'll sleep on the bus anyways, lord knows Coach ain't gonna let me play tomorrow anyways." Buche just shook his head ruffled my spikes and moved back to his place at the front of the bus. I was the team baby, I had been here for a few years but they had yet to move up any kids from "the ranch" that were younger than I was. I knew it wouldn't be too long until I was no longer the baby, but until then I was glad to play the part. It was just a reminder about how much I should treasure this moment while it was still mine.

I pulled out my pillow and throw blanket, plugged back into my music and let the world fade to black.

. . . .

There was only so much music, reading and catching up on social media one could do before their mind numbs more than their ass. Thank god the coaching staff knew this and finally stopped us for what was supposed to be food and leg stretching, but as usual ended up with a majority of us going for a quick jog, some rough housing and the inevitable throwing of food. We were after all, kids at heart. I think I even saw Buche flick a french fry at Buckmeyer. By the time the coaches had herded us back onto the bus everyone had successfully burned off the pent up energy and the bus was not nearly as tense as it had been.

I went back to catching up on my snapchat streaks and updating instagram and facebook. Posting everything from my fucked up pillow hair to the dorks sleeping in the back. I'd update everyone on the now black bruise that consumed the back of my thigh once we hit the hotel. I noticed I had a new follower across all my Mitchell Andrus social media websites. ManInBlack4, accepting the request as it was not on my secret page. Lester's cocky smile graced the full size of my screen, i couldn't help but smile back. Just as the gossip girl of the NHL plopped down next to me. In my surprise I dropped my phone into my lap, making it look like I was having more of a reaction than I wanted.

Of course considering it was the weekend Lester would choose just this moment to send me a message. LeCroix just laughed and smiled knowing he had his new juicy gossip "That your new boyfriend Andrus? I didn't know you swung it that way?" He was just fishing and I refused to respond, but by now he had the whole busses attention. Of course right at that moment i heard my phone ding. LeCroix took my lack of paying attention to him and swiped the phone from my grasp, taking off running to the back of the bus with it like a trophy. "Andrus had a boyfriend, Andrus has boyfriend." There was literally no way to stop this so it was better to roll with it.

"You're just jealous Matt can't get a girl half that good looking to give you the time of the day" "ooooooooooooooo" was the chorus around the bus and so now the burns started and we were all razzing each other as we pulled up the hotel we would be staying at for the night. MY phone somehow made it's way back to my pocket and as we all got our keys and I joined the shuffle to find our rooms, the message from Lester was forgotten.

After bedding down in my single room, I jumped in the shower because I was still a little crusty from running my nightmares into the ground on the dark Boston streets. We had a few hours to relax before we were meeting for a quick ice fix and then dinner. Opening my phone to message me dad, my screen opened directly to the message that I had forgotten about.

 **Hope your butt's not too sore from the trip up there :) Les**

One sentence was all it took to reduce me to smiles and gooey insides.

 **Can't feel it so I wouldn't know :/ Andrus**

I also shot of a message to my parents, let them know I got in safe. MY mother always worried when we travelled. She had sent a care package with my dad the other night so my bags were chock full of goodies only a mother could provide!

 **Sounds about like my ass sitting in this damn office chair! Les**

 **I take it you don't like the office work? Andrus**

 **Absolutely not, in fact I am running away to the gym because I can't stand it any longer. What are you guys up too? Les**

 **I'm just relaxing before our quick ice session tonight, too sore to do much else. I'm probably going to sit out tomorrow's game anyhow. Andrus**

 **Well no shit, that was a gnarly hit you took last night into the boards, and your leg probably doesn't look much better. How are you feeling? Les**

 **I'm not too bad, didn't sleep well last night ended up pounding the Boston streets this morning before sunrise. My thigh is not happy about it. Andrus**

 **Am I allowed to call you an idiot? Is that against policy? Lol sorry to hear you didn't sleep well. Sounds like we may have been running at the same time, maybe we could start running together in the mornings if you wanted? Les**

 **I know it wasn't smart, so yes you can lol. But one of the trainers will work it out for me. When I get baka running partner would definitely be welcome, i'm still getting used to this new art of town. Andrus**

 **Especially since your new found crazy is back on the loose. You should be ok while you are up there since we have tabs on her, but you're in control if you want a body guard with you. Les**

This is where I opened my figurative mouth and inserted my big fat foot. My lack of filter may be biting me in the ass

 **Only if you are the one guarding my body… ;) Andrus**

As I am loosing my mind trying to take back that stupid stupid sentence and that damn winky face, there is a knock on my door that signals it is time to hit the ice. I leave my phone plugged into the wall, and doomed myself to look at it later and let the chips fall where they may.

Meanwhile in Boston:

I was now staring at a ceiling, a blank white ceiling, where I had just been staring blankly at the screen of my phone, oh and running, yeah that's right I had been running. Before my brain shut down and refused to continue to allow my feet to move along the treadmill belt. So I found myself flat on my back gasping for air.

Had he really just said what I thought he said, what I thought he was implying, was that a winky face?!

Yes, yes it was. I let the smile explode in my face and my head thunk to the floor just laying there.


	8. Chapter 8

AN: Here you guys go, took me long enough, but here it is! Hope y'all had a great holiday season.

Chapter 8

The music thumping, blood pumping and the weights clanging, I was in the zone. Sweating, huffing, muscles screaming pounding out reps. My mind thankfully blank, the repetition and the music, the atmosphere of men working out allowed me to find my center and go into beast mode.

It wasn't uncommon for the guys to find me in beast mode both on the ice and off, once they could see it they knew better than to mess with me, hell most of the time they didn't even bother to spot me. My thigh was numb to the pain, as I did power squats until my thighs quivered. Pushing myself to the last open treadmill I pushed myself into a run. Thoughts spinning, as I often found them doing on the endless run, I began to see a pattern. No matter where my mind might go, it was constantly circling back to Lester. What was he doing, what was he wearing, was he upset or excited by my text message. How were things going at work, was I going to get him in trouble because I was a client? Did he even see me that way. As usual by the time I snapped out of my trance I found I had run about 10 miles, and the rest of the guys had left me. It wasn't unusual that I found myself alone at the gym, especially with the intensity I presented once I found my zone.

I found my way back to my room to take a quick shower before we went to dinner. A change of clothes and some styling gel later I looked back at the typical Mitchell Andrus, and for the first time in a long time I wondered "Was I enough?"

Meanwhile back in Boston:

I had been familiarizing myself with everything Mitchell Andrus, from his complete lack of anything prior to college, to the latest move his stalker had made. Now the lack of background in the system immediately told me one of two things. Name change, which I should be able to find, or a completely new alias. This was something that could be accomplished by any minor hacker if they knew the right tools or had the access and knowledge. Considering where he was from I would say mob hacker wasn't too far off the boards.

Digging a little deeper I found a couple families from that area that went back to the Andrus name. One in particular caught my eye, the Plum family, who's paternal grandmothers maiden name was Andrus. The oldest daughter Valerie lived in California with some hot shot lawyer and I found no records of any completed schooling or job. Must be nice to be the stay at home mother to 2 girls while your husband worked his days in some high powered office.

However the youngest daughter was the accomplished one. A degree in Business Management which she had turned into a successful lingerie buyer. Well travelled, photogenic and very illusive. Only the barest of details were available, only a few pictures, which was not what I expected from a woman as successful as herself. The weird thing was that, about the time Stephanie Michelle Plum just about fell off the map Mitchell Stephen Andrus showed up. Not to mention, Stephanie was an accomplished women's hockey player. City league, clubs, high school, and what looked like a full ride scholarship to her school of choice. Only to have Mitchell Andrus walk on unknown to one of the toughest men's hockey teams in the country.

Just as I was getting into my detective mode, there was an intense pounding on my door. I raced to get it because I know nothing good comes of having my door pounded on at 9:00 pm. Sure enough I was off to a takedown of one of Rangeman's FTA's that we had been searching for and were rapidly approaching the deadline to track down. Throwing on a rangeman jacket over my black tshirt and black cargo pants, I pounded down the staircase to the underground parking area. Jumping into an already moving Explorer with Junior peeling out of the garage faster than I could get my seatbelt on.

We arrived at the bar a split second before the two other Explorers, jumping out we strapped on our guns, knives, double checked stun guns and handcuffs. "Shorty" was known to carry so I strapped a bullet proof vest over my tshirt with the rest of the guys. We went in hot, guns blazing so you'd say. Adrenaline pumping through my system I stepped out of formation to get a better look at what we were barging into. Little did I know I was stepping out of the safety zone and into target range for one of Shorty's goons. I felt the bullet tear through my shoulder, just inside the strap for my vest. Tearing through flesh, muscle and pinging off bone. I got a shot off before I hit the floor, wind knocked from my lungs, as I sat gasping for breath I saw Junior drop the goon that had shot me while Ranger stunned Shorty to the ground. It was rather anti climactic after that as everyone realized they were outnumbered and outclassed by the rangeman strike team Ranger had put together.

Junior pulled me off the floor and walked me outside to sit on the tailgate and wait for an ambulance. While everyone was getting things sorted out with the cops that had arrived on scene, I pulled my phone from my cargo pocket and shot Andrus a message "I got shot during a takedown tonight. No big deal, I should be ok. Hope your night goes well. xLes

They had sent us to bed early to try and get some good shut eye, however when my phone went of at 10:06 pm, I was staring at the ceiling unable to find sleep. What I read on my screen would make sure I didn't sleep that night! Not thinking I immediately pressed the call button. I was up on my feet pacing the room before he picked up on the 2nd ring.

"Oh my god Les, what happened, are you alright, where did you get shot, is the bullet still in you, how's the pain, will you be ok?" I was rapid firing questions like the stressed out girl I was, and my voice was in a frighteningly high pitch.

Lesters deep rumbling laugh soothed what felt like a tortured rash over my chest. "I'm gonna be ok, it hit me high in the shoulder, I'm pretty sure it is a through and through, but it feels as though it hit bone. The pain for now is manageable, but I am sure as soon as my adrenaline wears off I am not gonna be any fun to be around. I am a notoriously horrible patient. I hate being in the hospital, and luckily enough after all the hard work ha been done, our company medic will spring me from the joint to be a horrible person at home in my own bed. I will probably have about 6 weeks before I head back to the field, so I will be a bear to be around until then. I hate desk work."

His rambling was adorable, it was like he just couldn't get his mouth to shut. His normally outgoing demeanor seemed almost frazzled. I know what adrenaline can do to your mind, and I have watched a few of my post game interviews so I know exactly what he looked like in this moment, well maybe minus the bullet hole in his shoulder.

Finally I got off the phone with once the ambulance arrived to take him to Boston Memorial. He made me promise to get some sleep, and in returned promised to have Bobby send me an update and text me in the morning. I was thankful that coach had told me I would be sitting out this next game as it meant my inability to sleep knowing Lester was hurt would not affect my game play.

Apparently I had slept like a rock and straight through my alarm as I bolted upright to the sound of determined pounding on my door. All the guys were already at breakfast and this was my warning call. I stuffed my face quickly and hopped on the bus with the rest of the boys for our quick jaunt to the rink. I hit the ice with the boys after about 6 full pots of coffee were poured directly into my bloodstream. Everyone who travelled with me knew how much caffeine it took me to function in the morning.

Cassidy caught my arm as we trooped off the bus, so I sat down next to him. "I hate to tell you this kid, but you should know by now that you won't be playing, so go ahead and put on the sweatsuit and sit the row behind the bench. We will let the medics look over you again tonight and see where you are. Alright?" I was nodding my head, anticipating this talk anyways. Getting up and moving off the bus to follow the team towards the guest lockers, head tucked into my jacket, I picked up a light jog to avoid the frigid air rushing around the arena. Falling into step with everybody I followed the winding line into the locker room. We took up our usual spots next to our locker room buddies from home, which put me in between Charra and Buche. As all the other guys started donning their gear I quickly and quietly took off my team travel gear, pulled a pair of under armour weather gear pants on over my boxer briefs, followed by our team sweatpants. The only time I was ever warm in a ice arena was if I was skating or if I had on 8 million layers. So I added the top piece of the under armour set over the white t shirt I wore, a long sleeve bruins shirt and then the jacket. Since I didn't actually have to get naked, it was the one time I could change in front of the guys.

Since I was ready before everyone else, I ended up helping put on pads and tweek on sticks. Wax, tape and blow torches were my specialty tonight. I liked being able to help. Especially since I would not be putting forth any blood, sweat or tears in tonight's game. IT was going to be my job to keep everybody riled up and raring to go. Coach had always thought that my intensity was infectious and it helped everyone else to play to the same level I was playing at, so I knew I had to step it up to make sure I could still infect everyone from the bench. This should be a tougher game that the Columbus Blue Jackets game. These two back to back games against the Canadiens were going to require faster footwork and better defense. It would probably also require at least one fistfight and more than a few people slammed into the boards.

The entire fleet of Canadian teams were known for the aggressive technique, if you could call it a technique instead of a strategy, and more than one American team cowed down early in the game. However, they don't call us "Da Broons" for nothing. Out of all the American teams we were the most matched to the Canadian teams for ferocity on the ice. Fights, slams, and nasty stick work were right in our wheelhouse, and I had the bruise from Brodie to prove it.


	9. Chapter 9

Hey Guys, sorry it's been so long. Hope to be back to keeping you guys with regular updates! I do have a few other old stories that I will be working on as well from a different username LesterWanted if you would like to check those out. I'm glad to be writing again, hope you guys enjoy this one as much as I did writing it!

Chapter 9

Sitting on the bench is hands down the hardest thing I ever do in a season. Cheering my team on is easy, watching my boys fight hard is even easier. But it's the adrenaline hitting you without any output, it's craving to be on the ice, finding yourself moving to what you would do in someone's position. Keeping everybody's intensity up was taking its toll on me though. After the first period I could feel my voice starting to go hoarse. But it was paying off, everyone was psyched, we were winning and we had momentum on our side after Bergerons' buzzerbeater. Slapped it right between Price's legs to put us up by one. It would be the last point scored until the back half of the final period.

The entire second period was a shutout and we were both getting desperate. A few minor scuffles dotted the beginning of the final period, but after Chara put the puck to the back of the net right before plowing into Price, was when the real fight broke out. It had been building since the first puck drop, between the adrenaline and the charged atmosphere there was bound to be a fight sooner or later. But as hockey players we are fiercely protective of our goalies, and anyone who charges them, hits them or intentionally targets them is in big trouble.

Before Price or Chara could even get disentangled the guys were on each other, pulling them apart and the punches were flying, the players on the bench bailed out onto the ice headed for each other. The collision on the ice sounded like a gunshot went off. The mitts were flying the punches were landing, there were helmets on the ground or being used to hit other players. I was standing at it staring in shock, knowing better than to take my concussed ass out on the ice. Eddie put his hand on my shoulder and pushed me down onto the bench, keeping me in my place. The refs were trying to break everybody up but it wasn't one big scuffle anymore, they had had broken up into groups of 2 or 4. Coach who had previously been watching this all go down had finally had enough after Buche put down yet another Canadien. He put his fingers to his mouth and let out an ear piercing whistle which silenced the arena and caught all the guys attention, making them propel themselves away from the fights and towards the bench. Just like that it was over. The respect we all had for the man we called our coach was insurmountable, proven by his ability to call off the biggest fight this conference had seen in years.

It took about 10 minutes for refs to get everything figured out and another 15 for the team medics to get the blood and cuts taken care of. Eddie had me helping him out, passing him supplies as he fixed the gash on Chara's brow. Having had more than my fare share of hockey fight fix ups, combined with my physical training Degree, I was actually pretty useful, finishing up wrappings and smearing on goop for bruising and cuts.

Once we got everyone patched up and back out on the ice, the game was pretty much a downhill slide. We were in the lead by 2 points with 1 minute left so it was just a matter of holding onto the puck.

Helping Eddie pack what little remained of his game bag, I trooped back to the locker room with the rest of the sweaty, bruised and bloodied guys.

The intense silence that fell over the room as Coach walked in was palpable. It was almost smothering, well either that or his staring at each of us. "Now I'm not going to say that I ain't proud because I am, each of you held your own in that fight, but god damnit Chara how many times do I have to tell you not to go after the other teams goalie? You know damn well that if anyone attacked Morelli with the kind of ferocity you just flattened Price with, they'd be dead."

Morelli just scoffed and shook his head, knowing that every word of Coach's was true. Goalies were all held a little higher than the rest of the team in that sense. But particularly of Morelli as he was the youngest, and best damn goalie this league had ever seen. Not saying he was a wimp, hell he was a Jersey boy, I'm sure he could handle himself, but with the addition of all the heavy awkward gear, it just made them a slower, easier target.

Now that all the excitement was over I could feel the adrenaline draining from my body, leaving me with the shakes that are pretty typical of an adrenaline let down without any discharge. Coach could see my body struggling, but Eddie beat him to it. "Fuck Andrus get your fucking ass in a tub, now." With the warmth having left my body, and my leg cramped up I was having a hard time getting off the wooden bench that circled the locker room. Eddie hoisted my ass up from one side, with help from on of the other medics, Big Dog on the other. They basically carried me into the wash room. One that I noted didn't have separate stalls like at home. They left me next to one of the tubs after closing the curtain around it so i could get undressed in peace.

I was in the middle of pulling my underwear off when Eddie walked back in, offering his help getting down in the tub. In my shock I couldn't move, couldn't process, the drain from the adrenaline having left my body in a sub par state. Eddie was staring at my now naked form, and noticing two things… One, my tits were completely free of all confinement, nipples hard from the cold of the locker room, and two, I didn't have the appropriate gear between my legs to be playing on an all mens NHL team.

I finally managed to cover myself with my arms, "Eddie….. Please, don't tell anyone." That was all i could get out before he abruptly turned, walking out closing the curtains behind him.

This was why I didn't do this shit, why I never changed in the locker room. Why I was always careful about where I took the after game soaks. This very FUCKING REASON. I was doomed, I was ruined, I was fucking finished. There was no fucking way that the NHL would continue to let a girl play among their midst. Eddie would no doubt be telling Cassidy what he had seen behind the curtain, and after confirming the facts, he would no doubt be headed to the owners to draw up my confidentiality and no contention contracts before giving me a stipend and sending me on my way. My dreams, down the fucking drain in a matter of moments.

I figured what the hell, I might as well make use of the soaking tub full of hot water beside me while I still could, and slowly slid down into the deep water. I let my head fall back against the rim, well more like thunked it, repeatedly while trying not to let my thoughts spiral. Maybe Eddie wouldn't say anything, maybe he didn't see anything, maybe this would all be ok. By the time the shakes had subsided and my head was in an ok place. Eddie walked back in told me to dry off get dressed and meet him on the back table. I put on my typical after game wear, a Bruins hoodie and basketball shorts, before walking back to the furthest table from the locker room. Chara was just getting finished and the front table, so I knew Eddie had left me for last.

"Eddie, I.." He just pointed to the table, so i quit trying to speak and layed down. He pulled up my physical records on the tablet and asked how my pain was, stiffness, soreness, cramping, etc. while entering my answers into the database. When he got finished I couldn't help myself anymore. I just blurted out, "Eddie, what gives, we both know what you saw means I am off the team. There's no way anyone will continue to let me skate, as a girl on a mens only NHL team. So why are you doing this?"

"Andrus, if that even is your last name, I know what I saw behind those curtains, and in some ways it shocked me, and somewhere deeper it confirmed that something was different I just wasn't able to put my finger on it. I knew you didn't bulk like the rest of our guys, you were more powerful from the thighs down which is not typical of a man and your superstitions seemed like more than just that. SO yes tonight confirms alot, but I also know that you are a damn good player, probably one of the best this sport had ever seen, regardless of whether you are a male or female, and regardless of whether you are on the ice or off. And honestly the light was dark so who is to know what I really saw, it could have just been the lights, casting shadows and playing tricks on me." With that he went straight into my rub down.

I let that play on repeat in my head. Eddie, a trainer for the Bruins was willing to overlook my gender because of the kind of player I was. As Eddie used his magical fingers to draw any stiffness out of my muscles. When he hit the muscle contusion on the back of my thigh I couldn't contain the squeal from the tenderness.

"Plus you always were kind of a bitch with pain." His laugh put a smile on my face and I began to relax under his touch. Knowing that somehow, someway things might just be ok.


	10. Chapter 10

AN: Lord knows its been awhile since I've graced yall with a chapter. I'm in a good place now for writing and hoping I will be able to complete this story before starting on the next thing that pops into my mind. Hope you like it :)

Chapter 10

Loading up on the bus that would take us back to the hotel, I was lost in a fog. I didn't even know what to think, say, do. Who to text, call or what to post to social media, which was my typical go to after any game. My fingers hovered over my keyboard, Lester's name sitting in the contact box, while Pandora played in the background on a playlist I couldn't recall if my life depended on it. After walking, in what could most likely be described as a zombified state, into the hotel and crashing, rather unceremoniously, onto one of the worst beds I've ever laid on.

Two hours later I was still staring at the ceiling, fingers twitching, and by this point I had started counting the number of dots on the individual panels in the ceiling. I had reached 9,657 before I couldn't take it anymore. I snatched my phone off the nightstand, off the charger and charged out the door. Once again i found myself awake, running, with my mind pounding faster than my feet.

The workout room was quiet, the low thrum of the treadmill that allowed me to run the mile than would never end. Some random infomercial played on low from the tv mounted in the corner. My phone sat on the front piece of the treadmill, in a holder generally reserved for a book or magazine. It took me a moment to realize the buzzing sound was the vibrations of my phone in its' plastic holder.

The text message that come through was a great surprise, and just what I needed in that moment.

 _ **Not sure if you are awake or not. I would understand if you weren't, but if you are . . . I sure would like to talk to you. Les**_

 _ **Not only am I awake, but I would love someone to talk to. Mitch**_

Moving from the workout room, to the 24 hour pool, pulling off my shoes and socks before sitting on the edge of the poll with my feet in the water. My phone beeped and vibrated again so I pulled it out of my pocket, careful not to drop it in the pool.

 _ **These Pain killers aren't killing anything and I'm bored as shit. What are you up to? Les**_

 _ **Sitting poolside, feet in the water, unable to sleep. The adrenaline does weird things to me when I can't burn it off right away. Mitch**_

 _ **I know the feeling, thankfully not often do I go without having to burn it off. Even when we can't I always have the gym here and plenty of people to spar with. Les**_

 _ **Spar with? Mitch**_

 _ **We basically play fight, no full force punches, but plenty of action to use up the adrenaline. Les**_

 _ **That's nice, when we are on home court and I'm not playing I'm always able to stay late and skate till I'm ready to pass out. But not on the road… Mitch**_

 _ **Yeah, I can understand that. I bet it feels like you're jumping out of your skin, like electricity is crawling across your pores, every hair standing on end. Les**_

 _ **Got it in one. Mitch**_

 **LPOV**

 _ **Got it in one. Mitch**_

God I felt like a girl the way my heart started racing with every ding of my phone, the smile spreading across my face despite the pain meds not completely taking the edge off. Bobby walked in the door, noticed my face, and gave me the strangest look.

"What's got you so happy? I know they didn't give you that good of drugs."

To tell or not to tell, this man was my partner, and my very best friend. Keeping this from him was killing me, he knew me better than anyone and had an idea that something was up, he just didn't know what.

"Just texting someone."

"Someone you like?" he questioned, knowing where this was going.

"Yeah, but we are just talking for now."

"Is that all you're going to tell me?" he followed with an all knowing smirk.

"It's really new, and it's not someone I should have an interest in at all." Next thing I knew I was spilling my guts to him. Damn pain meds, basically a truth serum with me.

Bobby collapsed against his chair back, taking it all in "Wow, man. Not an easy place to be. He is so high profile, and in addition he is your client. You have to tell Ranger so that he can take you off his account. That is the only way I can see you two having a chance." Typical Bobby, level headed, quick to the point and always comes up with the solution most likely to benefit everyone. He was loyal to a fault, and there was no one I trusted more with my secrets or my back. We had gotten ourselves into numerous scrapes or weird situations, generally of my own design, and he never failed to come up with a plan to get us out of it.

I nodded my head in agreement, knowing what he said was true and shooting a quick message to Ranger about needing to speak with him about changing a client's account from mine to one of the guys in my department, Vince.

Ranger's response came quickly _Will begin paperwork now to bring with me and have you sign._

I don't know that I had ever seen him write so much in one text. Although he had been giving me sideways glances all week, as I hadn't been my normal boistrus self and even declined going out this last weekend with the guys. A random bar hook up was not going to scratch this itch, but for me not to go out with the guys on the weekend was a surprise. So my cousin knew something was up, even though he wasn't sure what it was.

Mitch and I continued to text back and forth for the remainder of the day. Since he still wasn't allowed to practice with the team he only got to warm up and burn off some laps. This seemed to help put him in a much better mood when he texted me once he made it back to the hotel. I could almost hear the smile in his voice when I read his next text.

 _ **No longer feeling the need to rip my hair out. Hope your day is going better and you can get your medic to spring you back to your own place today. Hope to hear from you soon I have more question for you. :) Mitch**_

We had started a version of 20 questions where we would ask one, the other had to answer and would then get the answer from the person who asked, before asking another question. I knew he had an older sister, and a few nieces. I knew family was important and his father was a huge fan, his mother, while hoping he would become lawyer was ok with his Sports Therapy Degree and even owned a Bruins Jersey.

He knew that I came from a huge family, with 4 older sisters, too many nieces and nephews to keep track of, aunts and uncles out the ying yang, supportive though not understanding parents and a grandma that scared us all when we were little kids. He had already known about Carlos being my cousin so I also talked about the trouble with gangs we both got into, the time spent in juvie that turned us around and our consecutive enlistment into the Army where we found great success as a team and progressed into the Rangers division before charging out to start RangeMan.

In return Mitch told me about what it was like to try to walk onto the one of the toughest men's Hockey teams, UMass. How he Red-shirted the 1st year, unable to actually play. Joined a city league, took on the diet and training plan of a body-builder to gain the muscle mass the head coach said he needed. The ridicule he got, the testing he had to undergo for steroids, how quickly he rose through the ranks from untested freshman to starting line on the

Varsity Team. The instant interest from AHL scouts, and women. Though he never had an interest in them (did this mean he was gay? unavailable? he never said anything about a long time sweetheart?).

When the alarm went off at his newly secured apartment, and his stalker claimed to be his 'fiance' it had stung. I had to clamp down on the emotion to stop my hand from rubbing my chest where it burned. The images that flashed through my mind at night were enough to keep me awake, and at the very least required a cold shower or some 5 on 1 time.

Our texting had quickly become a necessity for me, it's like my day felt off kilter if I had not heard from him. I had NEVER felt like this, I couldn't not believe how much of a girl I felt like, pretty sure my man card fell out when I fell off that damn treadmill. I'll have to look for it at some point.

I had spoken with Ranger about getting Mitch's services transferred over to Vince, signed all the appropriate paperwork, and let Mitch know we needed to have an official meeting with the other staff members over his contract.

 _ **Why does it feel like you're getting rid of me as a client, so you don't have to deal with me? And why does my chest burn at that thought…. Mitch**_

While it was good to know I wasn't the only one whose chest burned when I thought of not being able to talk to him anymore. The more pressing thing was what in the hell was I going to say to that. I sat there staring at my phone for almost an hour, accomplishing none of the paperwork that had accumulated on my desk while I was in the hospital.

I had slumped in my seat staring at the phone in my hand, willing it to vibrate, to move, chirp, something. My travel playlist, which normally lead the bus into some awful karaoke, blared noiselessly into my ears. I stared, unseeing at my now black phone screen, I must have spaced out because next thing I know, I'm looking at a phone that has 3 new messages, all from Lester, without any knowledge of it having vibrated.

 _ **This meeting is absolutely about moving your services over to Vince, but not because I don't want to see you, in fact the opposite is true. I want to see you more, and the only way I can do that is to not being the one in charge of your contract or services. I am hoping that after the meeting you will agree to go out with me? Lester**_

 _ **I would understand if you didn't, after all we've never spent any time together. But I do feel a connection to you, like nothing I've ever felt before in my life, and I would love a chance to see where this could go. Lester**_

 _ **Please Mitch, answer me, I need an answer…. Please Lester**_

Well, whatcha think?


End file.
